


CREAM

by kitcassiachan



Series: seen: a haikyuu collection [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, First Time, Fluff and Crack, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hinata Shouyou is a horny little shit, M/M, Pining Miya Atsumu, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Porn with Gay Panic, Praise Kink, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Semi-Public Sex, Thighs, and SMUT, atsumu simping once again what’s new, sexuality crisis but it's smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:49:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24727768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitcassiachan/pseuds/kitcassiachan
Summary: *record scratch**freeze frame*Yup... That’s him. You’re probably wondering how a straight man like Atsumu ended up in this situation...
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Series: seen: a haikyuu collection [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1711519
Comments: 86
Kudos: 933





	CREAM

**Author's Note:**

> back with more atsuhina food. this is one of TWO fics that had Bokuto in mind but switched to Atsumu in the writing because I’m obsessed with him and writing his dumb inner turmoils. 
> 
> IF YOU MISSED THE TAGS: THIS IS SMUT, SILLY SMUT, BUT SMUT NONETHELESS. THIS IS NOT A SEQUEL TO PART FOUR but if part four left you sexually frustrated...

**CREAM**

It’s a step by step mistake. As in, a couple of things had to happen to get to where they are currently, that being the back of Atsumu’s douchey, red convertible, sucking face. Kissing.

He is kissing Hinata, who’s bouncing on his lap one flimsy layer away from Atsumu’s pathetically hard dick. Hinata Shouyou, the ginger spazz Atsumu practically adopted when he got his MSBY offer, who looks up to him, who is very much still a kid, even now at twenty fucking two.

Osamu will kill him. The spirit of Osamu that lives inside Atsumu’s brain, his snarky voice of reason, is killing him, albeit slowly and ineffectively because the rest of Atsumu is too busy yanking Hinata’s t-shirt over his head and watching him flail his arms unhelpfully like he’s never done this before and fuck— 

Let’s backtrack.

They’re at the beach because Hinata loves the sun as much as the sun loves Hinata. Atsumu’s his ‘absolute favorite person’ so of course they’d be together, and of course Atsumu’d say yes to anything Hinata wants, and Hinata wants ice-cream. Which they share.

The first mistake in hindsight, but nothing new or wonderous. They share food constantly, even something as lick-involved as ice cream. Hinata says it tastes better when he steals it off someone’s plate, and that someone is always Atsumu, who can’t say no because he gets some sort of weird, slavish pleasure always saying yes.

So here they are, toes deep in the sand, passing a three-tiered cone back and forth, and maybe Atsumu looks at Hinata’s tongue once or twice or nineteen times (raspberry blue) but Hinata, that stupid, little shit, doesn’t realize you’re supposed to bite into the ice cream and give yourself a brain aneurysm so he’s licking it all loooong and pretty, and Atsumu is staring, hard, and that means hard in every way.

A fairly recent phenomenon that Atsumu has yet to question or properly explore—that someone like Hinata, who’s his teammate, his best friend, and more importantly, a man, could flirt this out of him. It’s not the lack of sex either because Atsumu has a lot of sex with a lot of sexy women, but none as sexy as Hinata on their off days, freshly showered, skin bronzed, dewy and littered in a million freckles Atsumu wants to sample. Is it heterosexual to pine over your best friend in short shorts?

Luckily, Hinata’s as distracted as he’s distracting and has yet to question why Atsumu’s sitting criss-cross applesauce, one arm permanently attached to his lap, squishing down a stubborn boner that finds anything Hinata does worthy of ceremonial precum. The kid can’t fart without giving Atsumu a semi.

Atsumu’s never not had someone he wanted. He’s hot like that, spoiled with approval. When he crushes on a chick, it’s all he thinks about until he gets her, but he can’t exactly ‘get’ Hinata so he’s stuck in this sisyphean chase, trying to persuade his dick to like anybody else.

Hinata has ice cream all over his mouth and chin. When he hands Atsumu the cone, because again, and Atsumu can’t emphasize this enough, they’re sharing, Atsumu’s too taken with the way Hinata sucks his fingers clean and the ice cream melts on his abs, dripping past his belly button. He winces at the temperature shift.

Hinata laughs and jokes, “I’ll lick it off you.”

But Atsumu wipes it off with his fingers because he’s not some depraved bastard. Hinata, who is, grabs his wrist and plucks his fingers in his mouth.

Just like that.

Atsumu’s dick does somersaults! He’s speechless. Physically feels his brain screech to a halt, mid-thought, mid-panic even, like that moment you break too fast on the highway and just know the car behind you will smash your face through the windshield. Amen. Death incoming, he’s a goddamn ice statue, melting under the heat of the sun and his sinful thoughts, which tell him not so subtly to fuck Hinata’s mouth until he gags.

Hinata has the audacity to giggle. He swirls his tongue around Atsumu’s fingers, and it’s at this point and time that Atsumu blurts, “Are we doing this?”

Hinata nods eagerly, popping the p on the “Yuppp.”

Mistake number two is letting Hinata yank him off his ass and drag him to his car, which Atsumu would have never found without help since he abandoned his common sense at the beach, and is currently running on sheer horny energy.

At some point half-way through the jog-sprint Atsumu shouldn’t be breathless during (he’s a professional athlete for god’s sake, why is he dying?), Hinata squeezes his hand and pulls him close. He’s flashing a smile that’s too wide to be sexy and too devious to be cute. Tirelessly, Atsumu’s dick approves. 

“Wait… you do mean this?” Hinata asks, drawing Atsumu into a perfectly-innocent kiss that escalates immediately into a makeout session against some poor sucker’s fence.

Hinata’s thick thighs crushing Atsumu’s waist where they’ve wrapped themselves for support, his dick pressed into Atsumu’s abs, and fuck, Atsumu never thought he’d be this heavy, and fuck yeah, they are definitely fucking doing this.

“I mean whatever you mean,” Atsumu pants, rocking against him like a teen boy on an old but newly-rediscovered plush toy with an inconspicuously-placed hole. “Whatever you want.”

Hinata blinks back adorably. “I want you to wreck me.”

Well, what do you huh.

By the time the (douche alert!) convertible’s roof shadows them from the sun, Hinata has left three hickeys down his neck that will certainly be questioned by the team, people so far from Atsumu’s present state of mind they might as well have never existed. They’ll be mad about this consensual wrecking but they really shouldn’t be because disapproving parental figures make Atsumu want it more.

Atsumu tries (and fails, and tries, and fails) to not stare at their reflection in the rearview mirror... Hinata’s arched back, his perky butt, the dimples above it, the view Atsumu would get if he flipped him around, spread those cheeks and fucked him senseless. Consensual senselessness.

They sit in the back, more roomy, less obvious. Hinata’s on his lap, top naked, flushed red despite not having gotten any sun. They were barely out for an hour and they’re more than an hour from the hotel. Even if Hinata could wait, which judging by his breathy, little moans, he can’t, it’s probably unsafe to drive with a stiffy in your pants and another within arm’s reach.

Let’s say Atsumu does and they get stuck in traffic. He knows himself well enough to envision what he’d be doing to Hinata in the wait time, how he’d have him sobbing (literally fucking sobbing like the fucking crybaby that he is) and writhing all over the passenger seat until every driver in a one mile radius became aware of his toes on the console, curling and quivering with pleasure.

Atsumu’s never been one to need to dominate. He’s more of a lazy fucker, enjoys seeing people twist themselves into pretzels (sometimes literally) to impress him. But with Hinata, his brain imprints on the image of the crybaby crying, Hinata looking so pretty all snotty for him, as desperate for this as he is to win, that Atsumu would be on the same level as winning for Hinata, it’s cum-pants hot.

Hinata squirms in his lap impatiently because Atsumu’s too busy fantasizing about doing Hinata to actually do Hinata. Atsumu drinks him in, eyes raking up and down his frame. Hinata flexes his tummy all tough like Atsumu hasn’t seen it all before, the softness of his belly no matter how hard he works out. It’s cute that he wants to look good for Atsumu, even cuter how his small nipples perk up when Atsumu lays kisses on his flushed chest.

Atsumu takes one in his mouth, testing it. Girls love this. Atsumu’s ambivalent about his own. But Hinata, precious little baby, gives him the softest, sweetest, “Ohh.” He looks at Atsumu with the biggest, brightest eyes. “You’re so hot, Tsumu-san.”

Atsumu laughs, “And you’re so horny, puppy.”

Hinata gulps at the pet-name. “Ar—aren’t you?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Yeah?” Hinata breathes out before a grin softens his face, and he’s blushing again, the same pink that overcomes him when Atsumu praises him about anything. “For me?”

Atsumu shouldn’t fear saying yes but shouldn’t feed off fearing it either. The push and pull is delicious. Validation soothes him, sure, but nothing tastes better than pleasure-laced guilt...

...a weakness of his since he received his first, hurried blowjob, legs shaking in Inarizaki’s clubroom, while his upperclassmen cleaned up the net and risked catching him, pants down, dick swollen, every second he couldn’t make himself cum fast enough.

“I’m gonna make you so horny,” Hinata promises since Atsumu hasn’t replied.

Oh, baby boy, you don’t even know, Atsumu wants to say but holds back because Hinata thrives when people challenge him. If Atsumu makes him work for it, he’ll enjoy it ten times more. Like Atsumu, he loves his praise mixed with pity, spite a favorite chaser for bitter-coated victories.

Hinata gives him no time to come up with the right comeback. He curls into Atsumu’s lap to nip at his mouth. Atsumu gropes his ass, slipping one hand underneath his swimming trunks to squeeze the hard muscle. His fingers dip someplace forbidden that makes Hinata shiver and moan against his mouth. Atsumu photographs that reaction, can’t wait to snap more.

“Yeah,” Hinata whispers, nodding.

Atsumu should hold back, be a gentlemen. He should definitely not be pressing his finger tentatively against the tight hole, enjoying how it clenches, so inviting. He’s never done this before, wanted to, but no one was brave enough, and it always seemed too tight.

Hinata rocks himself on his lap, lips losing focus, as he struggles to multitask kissing with rutting with breathing—which he’s not doing—quickly giving up on romancing his mouth and tugging his lips off to confess, “Always thought there’s no way with you.”

“How long?” Atsumu says, digging his fingers in his ass cheeks to stop himself from going further.

Hinata laughs, “So long, Tsumu. Since I first saw you. Kageyama wouldn’t give me your number,” he admits, the heat on his cheeks deepening when Atsumu raises an eyebrow.

Atsumu kisses him because again, he can’t think of anything to say that fully encompasses how overwhelmed he feels.

It’s incredibly hot to watch Hinata through pure instinct, like he does everything, arrange himself so he’s pressing the throbbing bulge in his pants against Atsumu’s thigh, rubbing against him in jerky thrusts. His fingers dig into Atsumu’s shoulders where he’s supporting himself. There’s a dark patch on his swimsuit. Atsumu stares at it, torn about letting him ride himself to a ruined orgasm.

He doesn’t want this to end without having seen what’s underneath but what if he sees it and hates it? What if the sight turns him off or knocks some sense into him when the last thing he wants is an ounce of sense. Fuck sense. Sense is overrated.

Still, it’s one thing to like your male best friend, a complete other to like your male best friend’s cock. Though, seeing how his own cock throbs, he clearly likes his male best friend’s covered cock, the idea of his male best friend’s cock, the thought of it cumming, the thought of his own cock cumming inside his male best friend’s asshole. Hmm.

The more he hesitates, the more desperate Hinata gets. Self-control has never been his strong suit. He fucks against Atsumu’s leg, nuzzling whines in his neck, “Please, Tsumu. Tsumu, please.”

Fuck it.

If Atsumu’s gonna blow a massive load untouched and have a sexual crisis anyway, he might as well be getting the all-inclusive package in exchange. He reaches for Hinata’s bathing suit, blunt nails struggling with the knot before giving up and forcing the shorts off Hinata’s slim hips one naked inch at a time, chaffing his skin. Hinata helps by squirming and whining, and suggesting Atsumu use his teeth.

Atsumu manages one of his toned legs out before Hinata forgets there’s another and resumes grinding his naked cock against Atsumu’s thigh. And oh for god’s sake, god almighty, Atsumu was so fucking wrong because seeing it all swollen and red like that, foreskin pulled back to reveal a glistening mushroom head, has him salivating.

How long has he been this gay for? He’s never drooling over the face-less dicks in the porn he watches, so why is the fact that Hinata has a thick, uncut cock driving him cross-eyed? Why is he actively thinking about calling a dick gorgeous? Why does this dick right here need to be in his mouth? 

They’re definitely doing this wrong. If someone were to see, not that hard since they’re outside, they’d laugh (E for Effort) but Hinata sounds too gone to care how he’s being touched and Atsumu apparently gets off on watching him get off.

Use me, he’s begging to say, any part of me, my fingers, my thighs, my dick, my face, sit on my face until I can’t breathe, fuck yourself on my tongue, fuck my throat open with your perfect, curvy, thick cock. 

His own dick rejoices with every accidental brush of Hinata’s knee, more than happy to have that be enough. He can’t finish first, it would be too embarrassing.

He tentatively wraps his hand around Hinata’s dick, testing it. It’s velvety smooth, thicker than Atsumu’s own but smaller in length by an inch or two. Atsumu rings his fingers and slides them up slowly, feeling every vein and ridge along the way, before giving Hinata a tight squeeze, right below the head in that sensitive mystery spot that makes his knees weak when he’s touching himself. Hinata cries out.

“Yeah, please, more, yeah,” he consents constantly like if he doesn’t he might scare Atsumu away.

His small fingers grip onto Atsumu’s wrist and he guides Atsumu’s hand faster on his dick, won’t stop thrusting, making it difficult for Atsumu to get a solid rhythm. It’s harder than it looks, doing it for someone else, having to account for their movements, how they seem to like it. For Hinata... urgent, forceful, fast, like his plays. Tight enough to hurt him, a helluva initiation.

In between Atsumu’s fumbling for grip, Hinata fucks into the hole of his fist frantically, giving him no time to adjust. His hips buck up with every tug, chasing the touch like he’s too eager to wait for Atsumu’s hand to come down again, wanting more immediately.

“Still, hey,” Atsumu murmurs gently, “Shouyou?”

It’s a mistake, the name, because at the sound of it, Hinata’s whole body trembles, his cock twitching in Atsumu’s hand. Atsumu pinches the base and stops moving, though he’s sure Hinata’s past the recovery point with how he’s pulsing underneath his thumb.

Hinata growls low in his throat but holds it together. His eyes roll back, eyelids closing as he breathes through it. Atsumu thinks he might have pissed his pants, or cum all over his leg, or something, something has happened down there because fuck if he’s not feeling drugged out watching this.

“Sorry,” Hinata smiles.

Like he hasn’t given Atsumu wet dream material for decades to come, like Atsumu won’t fuck women every night wishing he was doing this instead, like he didn’t destroy whatever false morals Atsumu had summoned to fight this, whatever this is, a fetish in the making, a mid-mid-life crisis, that first rip of the bong that leaves you melted on the couch.

“I don’t wanna yet,” Hinata says, eyelashes fluttering open. “I’m close, but don’t worry, I can stop myself.”

He points his tongue at Atsumu, curling it playfully, the blue of the ice cream all but licked clean. It was ice-cream that started this, ice-cream he owes this to, or maybe Hinata, who asked for the ice-cream, who knew all along, this was an ambush!

Hinata’s movements pick up again, slower this time, barely restrained. His gaze fixes on Atsumu’s fingers, slicked with his arousal. He’s awfully sensitive, jolting at the slightest squeeze, gasping a lot of ahh-s and nghh-s.

Atsumu uses his other hand to stop him, pushing his hips down and holding him in place against his lap. Hinata's eyes shoot up in questioning. He pouts. If Atsumu were to deny him here, he’d likely burst into frustrated tears. Atsumu finds he can’t make himself make him.

“Baby, let me,” Atsumu says, rubbing circles on his hip bone. “It’ll feel so much better.”

“I’m sorry,” Hinata squeaks. “It’s you. I get excited.”

“Have you ever…?” Does Atsumu want to know? Both options suck the same.

Hinata blushes deeper, hands covering his face. “Yeah, but it’s youuu. You’re all I fuck myself to,” he mumbles out semi-coherently.

To have someone so unabashedly worship him scratches an itch so deep in Atsumu’s being, if rubbed further, he might not need much else to come undone. Atsumu shouldn’t flirt back, he really shouldn’t encourage this, but the idea that it might be tactless for them to fuck, that they might end up falling for each other and breaking each other’s heart, ruining the team with their bullshit, that Hinata knows these risks and wants him anyway. Atsumu shouldn’t because if he does, it’s gonna be a thing and not a one time one.

“Oh yeah?” Atsumu drawls, “What about me do you like?”

“Um?” Hinata thinks. Atsumu strokes his dick in the meantime, appreciating every one of Hinata’s involuntary jerks. “Uhh, ow, ummm.” He’s overstimulated, that much is obvious, but takes it, uncomplaining. Like a good boy. Like he’s Atsumu’s good boy, pretty, perfect boyyyyyyyyyyyyyfriend, wait, no.

“Nothing?” Atsumu teases, drawing circles around the slit, plucking every clear droplet puddling out.

“No,” Hinata swallows loudly. “No, every—ahh—thing, every—holy shit. Tsum, ah, no—wait.”

“Wait?” Atsumu stops—

“No!” Hinata lurches froward, grabbing at his hand. “Don’t stop! Just—” He flinches as Atsumu restarts, giving him a harsh tug. “Oh fuck.”

“Just?” Atsumu laughs.

“Don’t stop please,” Hinata begs, his legs squeezing around his thigh. “Just I might— I’ll probably— I can’t, much longer,” he stutters, looking worried.

The words tumble out of Atsumu's mouth without a plan (sense is overrated), the horny energy having had enough of his bullshit and just about ready to possess him to get this done. “Keep talking and I’ll keep going.”

He never gets to do this. Everyone’s always whining about how he can’t shut up in bed, needs too much reassurance, but Hinata hangs onto every word.

“I want you,” Hinata admits hurriedly, “Keep touching me.”

Atsumu raises an eyebrow, faking a disappointed frown. He loosens his grip to a fluttery caress with no real pressure behind it. Hinata raises his hips and contorts his body, seeking friction. Atsumu gives him nothing but feathery touches.

“What do you like about me, Shouyou?” He reminds.

“Your hair,” Hinata offers, strained.

Atsumu can’t help but laugh. It is a compliment though, so as promised, he tightens his fist and rewards Hinata with two good, deep strokes, catching on every vein on the way down and twisting his wrist around the tip.

Hinata sighs in pleasure, immediately launches into more praise Atsumu has heard from him before: “I like your sets, your serves, how you play, your smile—”

And some he hasn’t and never imagined he would. “Your arms, your ass, god, I think about your ass in those shorts all the goddamn time,” he admits, bucking his hips into Atsumu’s hand and providing a pretty good visual of what he wants to be doing to that ass. Has he? With anyone?

The thought infuriates him. He tugs Hinata closer to kiss up his ruddy chest, gently at first, and then, furious, angry-marking him with hickeys so dark they might as well have been punched in. If Hinata hates it, he’s certainly doing a bad job telling him off.

“I like how big you are,” Hinata moans. His hands splay on Atsumu’s arms, squeezing the flexed bicep of the hand that’s jerking him off. “You’re huge, you can fucking crush me, I bet you have a big cock.”

Atsumu had forgotten about that. What’s he up to these days, his poor, neglected cock? Hinata grinds his ass onto his lap for emphasis, and fucking hell, there he is, still alive, still kicking desperately against his restraints, and still begging for permission to explode.

Atsumu slams his hips up and the sound Hinata makes, may this period of nonsense never end, may he die knowing nothing but what Hinata might sound like when he’s being plowed into oblivion.

“I like what you’re doing to me right now,” Hinata whispers, yanking Atsumu’s hair.

“What’s that?” Atsumu growls, teeth grazing one of his nipples.

Claiming you, his dumb bitch mind offers, terrifying him, because he came into this car confused and is about to come out of it in a gay relationship. 

“Want you,” Hinata pants, eyelashes against his sunburnt cheeks. “Making me want you,” he clarifies, looking down.

God, he’s stunning. Atsumu kisses his mouth, as his hand picks up the pace. Hinata’s breaths are all but gasps and mewls. He writhes but doesn't fight or get fussy, letting Atsumu work him at his own desire. So, so good for him, Atsumu’s mind repeats, and it makes his dick hurt, and it makes his heart clench.

“I think you made me,” Atsumu teases his earlobe. “You’ve been driving me crazy these days, baby.”

Hinata pulls away abruptly.

Atsumu winces, thinking he might have been too honest this time. Too caught up in the moment and thinking for a second that they’re in the kind of agreement that allows them to be sweet on each other.

“I’m gonna cum if you keep calling me that,” Hinata confesses.

“You don’t wanna cum?” Atsumu provokes, removing his hand completely.

“Tsumu,” Hinata sobs, pawing at Atsumu’s hand to place it back around his dick. “I do, do you want me to? If—if you want me to?”

Atsumu can see his dick quivering with the words, so full it’s almost purple. He doesn’t need to be touching him to know how hard Hinata is. Atsumu’s never wanted anyone, himself included, to cum more. He should wait probably, or help probably, or keep it going longer to seal the deal, edge him until he’s in tears—

“Cum for me, baby,” he blurts because he really, really, really, really just wants to see it, and this whole thing has shot what’s left of his patience.

He doesn’t give a fuck about what’s the right way to gay, just that Hinata is there, pleading so beautifully, and he looks beautifully amazing, and Atsumu doesn’t need his beautiful dick up his ass to know he’s fucked.

Hinata whimpers, “You’re not gonna…?”

“Can’t without?”

“Once,” Hinata pleads, “Just one.”

Atsumu thinks he might have cum his pants a second time, brain fried with Hinata juice, but no, his dick is still thrashing like a caught fish.

“Promise?” He stretches out the time, fingers tracing up Hinata’s thighs towards the ass he’s definitely going to violently destroy one of these days.

Hinata’s legs shake. He nods. Atsumu wraps an arm around his waist protectively, too afraid he’ll hurt himself with how little control Hinata currently seems to have over his trembling body.

“So big,” Hinata mumbles under his breath, making him chuckle.

He circles his fingers around the base of Hinata’s dick and looks into Hinata’s hazy eyes, as he inches up slowly, dragging it out. Hinata cups his neck, falling into his lips with wordless thank you-s. Atsumu kisses him back but keeps his eyes wide open to spot that exact moment where Hinata’s pupils push out any color, lost in the intensity of his orgasm.

Atsumu’s halfway up his dick when Hinata cums without warning. He empties thick strands over their chests, his entire body convulsing. The moan that rips out of him could start wars. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whimpers as he comes down.

Atsumu looks down to catch the last of the dribbles pool out of his spent cock. But a promise is a promise, so he keeps stroking him at the same, excruciating pace until he’s all the way to the top. Hinata’s fingers claw at his forearm but he doesn’t pull Atsumu’s hand away. His body jolts when Atsumu swipes the tip, rubbing the excess semen off before releasing.

Hinata collapses against him, drenched in sweat. He’s whispering shit Atsumu can’t make out and Hinata probably shouldn’t be saying. There’s a ‘please’ somewhere, a few ‘more-s’ and ‘again-s’ maybe a ‘love’ or two, some ‘thank you-s’ and ‘so hot-s’.

Atsumu holds him curled up in his arms, laying kisses on any part of him he can reach. 

“I’ll do better next time,” Hinata says when he’s calmed down, the sparkle back in his eyes. “Last longer, I’ll be less crazy.” He laughs. “Do stuff to you too.”

“Oh, you’ve done stuff to me,” Atsumu deadpans, slamming his head back on the car seat, as Hinata keeps laughing.

“Wait,” Hinata says suddenly, sounding too amused for Atsumu’s taste. This is going to be his life now, living in fear of the things Hinata will inspire in him.

“...you came?!”

Atsumu looks down at the gooey, splotch on the front of his pants. 

Huh.

#

**Author's Note:**

> dear god what have I done... It’s clear I pine for Hinata in the body of Atsumu. I hope you all found this semi-enjoyable and appropriately-cringeworthy. please spare a smol comment or kudos to feed a starving artist. 
> 
> if you like my work or want to punch me in the face, I welcome both on my [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/KitCassia).
> 
> THIS STORY NOW HAS A SEQUEL!! Part 9 - “CRANBERRY” 💕


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